


1:54 pm

by ibasedrandomness



Series: Twitterpated [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, College, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Hangover, M/M, Morning After
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-08
Updated: 2017-11-08
Packaged: 2019-01-31 03:17:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12667143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ibasedrandomness/pseuds/ibasedrandomness
Summary: In which Katsuki Yuuri wakes up with a killer hangover the afternoon after a hearty party in New York City and proceeds to find a platinum-haired stranger in the bed with him.





	1:54 pm

Yuuri wakes up to the sun shining brightly in his eyes and the smell of alcohol nearly suffocating him as he tries to sleep. He makes a noise in between a cough and a snort and moves to get up, bringing an arm up to block the sun’s rays but _fuck_ does he have a killer headache. Hangover? Whatever. His head is killing him and he groans, laying back down onto the pillows with a _whump_ —which he regrets almost instantly—and chooses to just stare at the ceiling of his bedroom? No.  That’s not _his_ ceiling. This isn’t his bedroom. Where is he?

A sudden wave of pain rushes forward and he moans in something akin to agony, pushing his fingers into his hair and clenching his fist to distract himself from the aching pain running a marathon in his head. _No thinking, no thinking, no thinking_. Because thinking involves brain power and neither he nor his brain is in the mood to do anything but sit, sit and stare at the ceiling that’s not his. Where is he? What the hell happened last night?

His mouth seems to be in a perpetually never-ending state of _dry_ and everything is gross and his head is in pain and everything aches and it’s just _bad._ Bad and not okay. Just… No.

It takes him a moment to realize that he is, in fact, naked and he does this by shifting just slightly and feels the sensation of bare skin against bed sheets and he tells himself not to panic, to come up with a rational explanation but that involves thinking and his brain won’t allow such rude behavior and so he lays there, unreasonably stiff and uncomfortable, refusing to move. It takes him even longer to register the body next to him, warm and ever-present, and now, _now_ his body allows him to panic.

He jolts upright, scrambling frantically for the covers to give him some sort of privacy and turns to the body in question while his chest feels like it’ll cave in from how hard he’s breathing right now and he squints his eyes in the suns unrelenting rays, distantly wondering where the hell his glasses are. The person, _the man_ , is spread out on the other side of the bed, covers scant and hardly covering his body from ogling eyes. Not that Yuuri was staring—he most definitely is—but _please,_ somebody, explain what the hell is going on.

The man shifts, groaning in his sleep and Yuuri jerks, pulling the covers closer to himself, his hands shaking in his nervous fit and he gulps a mouth full of air as the sun reflects off the mans…platinum hair—did he dye it?—and Yuuri’s attention is drawn to the purple markings across his back and shoulders and his heart skips about eight beats all at once. _Fuck._

The man moans and shifts again, turning his head groggily in Yuuri’s direction but he doesn’t wake and Yuuri lets go of a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding.  His heart is in his throat and he’s on the verge of a small freak attack because _what the hell is going on_. Where is he and who in god’s name is this man in this bed that’s not his.

“Why are you breathing so loudly,” the man whispers, a sliver of a smirk on his lips and _shit!_ Yuuri takes a moment to reevaluate his situation, willing his nerves to settle and takes a deep breath to calm himself down and just to _make_ _sure_ , he lifts the covers and looks underneath. He is indeed naked, and so is the sleeping man beside him.

“Fuck,” Yuuri whispers, more to himself than the stranger.

The man’s smirk only grows as he shifts again, pushing his ass out in a way that cannot be considered innocent. “Fuck, indeed.” He says, and there’s something in his tone that makes Yuuri’s hair stand on end.

“Who are you?” Yuuri asks suddenly and tentatively, his voice hoarse from the profound amount of drink he must’ve done hours earlier. “What happened last night?”

“Yuuuuri,” the man says with a chuckle and its then that his pushes himself up—because apparently, he’s awake now—resting on his elbows as he turns to Yuuri, staring at him with impossibly _blue_ eyes and Yuuri suddenly feels like a deer caught in headlights under his gaze. “You don’t remember?” he asks, feigning a pout as he tilts his head _just so_ and then his bangs are in his face and Yuuri’s heart skips a beat without his permission.

“I…N-No,” he stutters, shaking his head faster than necessary and he brings the covers just a smidge closer to himself. The man doesn’t seem to notice, only smirks and looks down at his hands, whispering a ‘that’s too bad’ before he’s looking back up at Yuuri again and smiling profusely.

“I had a great time last night!” he says excitedly and Yuuri groans, his hangover coming back to him full force and suddenly he doesn’t even feel like caring right now because putting two and two together—his naked body. The man's naked body, with his marks and his nice butt—he can very well guess what went down last night and so he gives up, laying back down forcefully with another _whump_ and winces not only because of the way his head pounds but because something stings. His back is _stinging_ and what the hell.

“What the…” he whispers, shifting onto his side as he reaches behind him, stopping immediately when he feels a cold touch against the stinging sensation. He shivers, looking over his shoulder at the man behind him.

“Sorry, that was my doing.” He whispers wistfully and then suddenly his cold fingers are gone and he smirks, resting his head on his hand and lifts an eyebrow. “It’s still sore back there you know, not that I’m complaining.”

Not for the first time since he woke up, Yuuri groans, falling back into the pillows and he stares at the ceiling, refusing to acknowledge how bad he’s blushing right now and then suddenly there’s a weight on his chest and he’s smelling vanilla shampoo. He doesn’t protest, just lets it happen as he huffs out a breath because he’s too tired to care and the waves of pain from earlier are practically tsunamis now and _apparently_ , according to the man currently laying on his chest, they already slept together so what’s the harm?

“What time is it…?” Yuuri asks after a few minutes of silence, letting the question hang in the air as an invitation for the man tracing patterns on his bare stomach to give his name.

“Victor…” he says softly, oddly content.

“Hmm?”

“My name Is Victor,”

“Okay _Victor_ ,” Yuuri says after a beat of silence, testing the name on his tongue. “What time is it?”

Victor, the strikingly beautiful stranger Yuuri woke up next to after a crazy night he can’t remember, looks up at him and then suddenly, they’re soft lips against his jaw and Yuuri’s blushing once again. “It’s time to rest, Yuuri.”

**Author's Note:**

> *pulls up with starbucks*: 'Sup
> 
> Song that inspired this: [Who Says by John Mayer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4qyrBRn1s3I)  
> What i listened to while writing: [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/ibasedrandomness/playlist/1J1qnkHUZtQkgGbWCihEc0)
> 
> Hey, Check This Out!  
> [My Heartbreakers Series!](https://archiveofourown.org/series/787965)
> 
> Thanks for reading! ♥


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